Gratuitous Pre-Halloween Ranting

I've always rather disliked the whole concept of Christmas gingerbread houses. Not only are they of the kind of kute n' kuddly krafts that make my skin crawl on general principle, it is inevitable that once the damned things are put together, they're just going to sit there moldering until somebody gets around to throwing them away. Confess that you never actually eat the thing. Confess, I say!

Well, perhaps I've been under a rock for too long, but this weekend was the first time I've become aware of the spread of this particular seasonal virus to other holidays. Yes, it's the Haunted Halloween Gingerbread House:

(I rant, btw, secure in the knowledge that our Internet access is out at home and there's very little chance the Missus will read this post.)

Anyhoo, one of these blighted kits showed up at the Butcher's House and the Missus and the Llama-ettes put it together yesterday afternoon (while I tried to make myself invisible behind the newspaper). And for all the alarums and excursions involved in putting it together, it'll meet the same fate as any other such project, sitting on top of the fridge until somebody remembers to chuck it.

There was one aspect of the project that did accord more closely with what I consider to be the proper Halloween spirit: The kit the Llama-ettes were using contained a great deal of black frosting, to which all of them helped themselves, of course. The stuff stained their lips and teeth to the point that they spent the afternoon walking around looking like the Children of the Damned. Boo, indeed.